


voices which are silent

by preromantics



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris hates calling it homesickness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	voices which are silent

It's really unfair, sometimes, how life takes it's twists and turns. Kris is really getting everything he wants right now, playing to packed stadiums and actually _doing_ something with his life. It didn't really hit him before, in all the rush, back to back everything, but it's after the San Diego show that he really feels it.

Allison is the one who notices first, as he's grabbing his Mac and some extra water bottles from backstage before the final bus call.

"What's with your face, man?" she asks, punching him on the shoulder with a big grin, still high on the performance.

He startles, a little -- she's always so full of energy and Kris' highs from the show have been draining out of him quicker than anything, lately, lasting just enough for him to brave the post-show barriers outside. Allison is still grinning at him, a little faltering, scooping her own stuffinto a big purse.

Kris grins back at her, small, "Nothing," he says, a late response, but she seems pacified enough.

  
-

  
Kris hates calling it _homesickness_, it's not like he's truly sick. It's not even like he really wants to be home right now. He's having fun, making money, doing what he loves. The main idea that he misses is the familiarity of everything home brings.

When the show was still going on, Kris had the same feeling at first. Waking up at 2am to get a snack wasn't the same when he had to creep out of the room and try and remember the easiest way to the kitchen. Gradually, though, that feeling had dissipated more and more each week. The room he shared with Adam built up with both of their things, and many conversations, so much so that it almost ended up feeling like a sort of home -- a place that was there for Kris every night, with an added bonus of someone to listen to anything he wanted to say.

In retrospect on the show, Kris supposes a big part of not having the feeling of lack of familiarity, or 'homesickness' was probably due to Adam being there. It's silly, maybe, that someone who Kris didn't even have history with, who he didn't share the type of growing-up memories with like he did his entire town, would be that for him, but. It wasn't really silly at all because it was so true.

Adam still holds that, for Kris -- he can grab his eyes across a crowded room and feel stable, if only for just a second. He can sit next to Adam before a live show, backstage on a couch with just their thighs touching, doing something completely different from each other and that's _familiar_.

The only thing is, really, the tour moves so much differently that home, or than the mansion, that Kris starts feeling it again, a sort of weight that intensifies when he's on the phone, or when he's alone and a little bit restless.

  
-

  
Adam notices it, next, the same night Allison does. They are all packed onto the bus for what is apparently going to be a four or five hour ride, just to get them over to the next hotel. Most of them have decided to try and sleep, or try and rest at least, in their bunks.

Kris doesn't feel like that, though, not tonight. It's just so -- so dark in the bunks, so closed in, exactly the feeling he doesn't want. Adam's in the lounge with him, one leg pressed into Kris', his ankle bumping Kris' into whatever beat he's listening to behind a pair of gigantic headphones.

Matt and Anoop had left the lounge after an hour, flipping on a season DVD of Entourage and not getting into it. Kris is content to just sit on the couch, though, laptop warm on his lap and screen idle, just the faintest hum of Adam's music catching over the muffled rumble of the bus.

"Hey," Adam says -- he's jiggling his foot with intent against Kris' leg, shaking him alert. He's got his headphones down, now, around his neck.

Slowly, Kris peels his head back from the couch, blinking around at Adam. "Hey what?" he asks, feeling more comfortable than he has all day as soon as Adam smiles at him. (Which is stupid, but whatever, Kris likes the connection they have together, likes that he can get all this from Adam and return it in a way that makes them both happy -- and it's not like he's going to read into anything, doesn't have to, even. It's just a nice feeling, is all.)

"If you're going to sleep, you'd be way more comfortable in your bunk," Adam says, shifting to grab Kris' laptop and shut it, tucking it over on the side table.

Kris frowns, a little. "It's fine," he says, "I'm comfortable here."

Adam frowns right back at him, a little like a comical imitation of Kris' face. "Oh," he says, "yeah, I can see how comfortable the couch is and all the lights must be."

Kris swats at him aimlessly, already leaning back into the couch.

"Hey," Adam says, again, after a few minutes, and Kris rolls his eyes behind his eyelids before opening them.

"Hey," he says, back, drawing the vowel sound out until it doesn't even sound like a word. He slides into the middle of the couch a little more, bumping against Adam's shoulder and staying there.

Adam sits up a little, twisting the headphones around and off his neck and then moving his own laptop over to join Kris'. He leans back into Kris, and Kris grins, just a tiny little bit. "Okay, so," Adam starts, "what's up with you?"

It's a little annoying, because 'what's up' with Kris it's simultaneously both obvious and also something he doesn't want to talk about, so he huffs a little, scrunching up his nose.

Adam shifts them again, a little, and huffs right back at Kris. "You aren't going to work with me here, are you?" he asks.

Kris pulls up his face, mockingly, pretending to think about it.

"You -- your face looks ridiculous," Adam says, not missing a beat, and his voice is a little more soft. He's got his fingertips just resting warm on Kris' cheek, pressing his face back to normal, almost.

"Hey, now," Kris says, "don't be making fun of my face."

This is easy enough, the banter, and Kris feels a little looser already. After the show had really pulled him down, made him acknowledge just how he was starting to feel about being away from everything, and the chaos of the backstage and how crowded the bus was before everyone had settled had just put him on edge, even after a hurried call to Katy.

"You're going to hit home in just a few days," Adam tells him, picking up the conversation after a few warm and comfortable minutes. His thumb keeps brushing just lightly along Kris' jawbone, soft enough to make Kris actually want to sleep, which is nice.

"Yeah, I know," Kris says, giving in to the weight on his eyes and closing them, "it's just. It's not that though, really."

"Then what is it?" Adam asks. Both of their voices are lower, pulling each other into the little bubble Kris likes about their dynamic together. They could be on a crowded subway or in a deserted room just as much as they are on the bus, right now, and the conversation, where ever it decides to go, would still be the same.

Kris doesn't really want to explain what it is -- he doesn't know how to, and anyway, Adam probably already knows (he generally always does,) but he tries to organize his thoughts a little to at least give Adam an answer. "It's like feeling detached and aware of it all at the same time, or something," he finally settles on, glancing up at Adam's face and leaning into his hand, a little.

Adam taps his fingers across Kris' cheek, in thought. "That's a little vague," he says, the corner of his mouth tipping up into a smile, "but I get it, I know."

"I think it was seeing you home tonight," Kris pushes, a little rushed, "not that -- that was great to see, but you know? It hit me."

He goes easily when Adam leans to open his arms out a little more, loose, and leans fully into Adam's chest. Whatever they are together, or whatever they are perceived to be, none of that matters outside of them being each other and this -- just being able to lean into Adam, so solid and warm, Kris knows there isn't a category for that.

Adam smells nice -- his shirt is soft, it smells a little bitter, bleach-y. Beyond that is a trace of his cologne, scents that are a part of his skin and can't get washed out with a little soap and water. Kris hums, a little, just breathing, and thinks about falling asleep right there, just until they hit the hotel.

  
-

  
Kris does fall asleep, even though he didn't plan to, but it's only for maybe a half hour. Adam presses him back, a little, waking him.

"Seriously," Adam says, smiling soft -- the lights are off, he must have asked the driver and Kris didn't hear the speaker -- and his face flickers in and out with the orange glow of highway lights. "You should go lie down in a bunk."

Kris stretches, leaning back, still close. "No, I'm good. That was just a power nap."

Adam rolls his eyes. "A power nap for what? Walking to the hotel room and passing out?"

Kris feels a little fuzzy, sleep heavy, focused on the way the material of Adam's shirts folds and lines up in little mountain-like ridges on his chest. He mostly wants to go back to sleeping there.

He must be fading again, slow, because Adam makes a little thoughtful noise, almost a little worried and that's silly, Kris can't really think of a reason for it, sliding himself down almost awkwardly near Adam's shoulder.

Adam makes another noise, sort of a groan. "Kris," he says, all low and soft.

Kris squints open his eyes. Adam's face is right there, everything flickering in and out of blurry and clear and his lips are -- . Kris can't help it, he laughs a little, right into Adam's face, chin connecting with Adam's shoulder.

"Oh no," Adam says, mocking, "you're going crazy. This always happens, it's just a matter of time."

"Shut up," Kris tells him, rolling his jaw so Adam can feel it on his shoulder.

They stay like that, Kris keeping his eyes open but only barely, tracing the line of Adam's shirt collar and then his throat, the closest things in his view.

"Are you really okay, though?" Adam asks. The bus is all humming and silent, and some people in the bunk area have definitely fallen asleep, Kris can hear the muffled sleep-sounds through the black-out curtains. "Because you can talk to me, you know, whenever."

Kris opens his eyes fully at that, leaning back a little, "Of course I know that," he says, possibly a little defensive, but also sincere. "I'm fine, right now, anyways."

"But what about after right now?" Adam asks.

Kris really doesn't want to finish the conversation, it's so warm and comfortable right now, and he can feel the bus turn a little, like maybe they are going off onto an exit -- an exit with a hotel and a non-moving bed and the weird hotel generic-cleaning-product smell that Kris likes, for whatever reason. He nuzzles up into Adam's cheek a little, to try and get him to just stop talking and be as comfortable as Kris feels, and Adam curls a hand around Kris' neck, just scraping his fingers into the soft bits of hair at Kris' scalp.

Their eyes catch, again, that stable feeling translating again -- from crowded rooms to moving buses to whatever -- and it's not. Kris really doesn't ever have to explain the dynamics of what they have to himself, although he knows other people do, and he doesn't let that bother him, not really.

It's nice, though, because Kris just _knows_ with the way Adam is looking down at him, the lines beside his eyes all relaxed and soft and the quirk at the side of his lips curled just slightly. He meets Adam, probably going most of the distance up (reluctant to leave Adam's shoulder, just a tiny bit.)

Adam's lips are not soft -- not in the way Kris somewhat expects them to be, for whatever reason. Probably the chapstick Adam carries around, but then again, Kris uses chapstick just as much and his lips aren't that soft. They feel much like his own, just pressing into Kris' sort of warm and a little rough.

Kris grins, lets it spread, pressing up into Adam and Adam runs his hand a little more fully through Kris' hair, tingly. He can’t help it, makes a soft little noise into Adam’s mouth and rolls Adam’s bottom lip between his own, awkward with the way his mouth is curled up.

The bus is slowing, enough that the momentum inside slows, too, and Kris leans back after a few more seconds, entirely warm and comfortable, resting his weight back onto Adam’s side.

They stay silent, toll booth lights flickering past and the bus starting back again. Kris curls into Adam, a little, mostly awake again.

“I can’t wait for a bed,” Adam groans, drawn out. His hand is still in Kris’ hair, just at the base, lightly scratching with the pads of his fingers. “I didn’t realize it until just now, but now I just want to crash.”

Kris looks up, one eyebrow raised, teasing a little, “Oh, well, you could always go rest in the bunks. C’mon, go rest in the bunks. Are you sure you don’t want to? Are you okay?”

Adam pushes at him, and Kris falls back into the cushions. “I don’t sound like that,” Adam says back, laughing, “And, hey, I was genuinely concerned there for your well-being.”

Kris pushes back at him, catches a hand in the material of Adam‘s shirt along his ribs and keeps it there. “Uh huh, sure.”

They make faces at each other for a good minute, trading back and forth, until Adam falls over a little with a laugh deep in his stomach. Kris grins and leans back into the couch, tipping his head back like before and shutting his eyes.

  
-

  
It is really nice to have a bed, again. Kris sleeps easy, easier than he has all tour, possibly, body worn down but not tense. The pillowcases smell bleach-y, a little like Adam’s shirt but mostly not, and the room has a hum to it from the air conditioner, a little like the bus.

He calls home, before he goes to sleep. Leaves a voicemail for his parents in the morning -- they still have an answering machine, and Kris knows his mom loves seeing the blinking red light in the morning when she walks into the kitchen, knowing he’s left a message and enjoying it no matter how incoherent it is.

It’s a little cold, but Kris still feels warm from the bus, through his fingertips and there’s just a little light buzz on his skin, along his lips and chin, a comfortable sort of feeling just along his spine.

He’s homesick, maybe, even though that’s still a term he hates to apply to himself. Even if he is, though, at least he has a little bit of home wherever he is -- backstage and on the bus and now, in a room next door.

Kris texts Adam as a final movement before he falls straight into sleep, blearily touch-typing nothing more than _‘gnight’_ just because it feels good to be able to.


End file.
